


Summer Pizza

by Kitsunis



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Bickering, Cute things, Drinking Games, M/M, Pizza, sex?, takes place between s2 and 3a
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-14
Updated: 2014-11-27
Packaged: 2018-01-19 07:41:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 21,508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1461277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kitsunis/pseuds/Kitsunis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's the start of summer and Derek is looking forward to his new job at a pizza parlor. Little does he know, Stiles is out of school and he'll be working there too.<br/>Co-Authoured with the lovely Kitsunis!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Stiles drove his Jeep through Beacon Hills, the song, ‘A Beautiful Morning,’ played from the radio. It was perfect. The song, the morning, it truly was the start of a great day. It was warm and sunny outside, and Stiles had the windows rolled down.

After all of the chaos of the school year, all of the struggling and suffering, with Allison’s crazy hunter family and the Kanima and all of everything, Stiles was desperately grasping onto thoughts of the summer ahead. He was crossing his fingers that nothing would go wrong either. He laughed aloud at that thought, alone in the car, knowing that it was unlikely. Still, today was going to be fantastic. He was determined that it would be.

Today was the first day of his summer job at Mama’s Pizza. He’d worked there last summer and it had been tearfully and perfectly uneventful. He’d made pizzas and was paid for it, and nobody died. He hadn’t even burned himself on the oven, not once! Well, not enough to leave a scar, so he was practically pro.

Stiles pulled up to the restaurant and hurried in, flashing a grin at the heavyset Mama Rosa. It hadn’t been that long, since he and Scott came to Mama’s often, but it was good to officially be back. He stood behind the counter with Mama, with the hot oven beside them. “How’s it going? Is Salvatore here yet?”

“Salvatore is not working here anymore,” She said in an Italian accent. “He was late too many times so I let him go. The new guy is in back. Go say hello.”

“Alrighty,” Stiles said, grabbing an apron on his way and tying it behind his back. He strode into the back room and stopped short, mouth falling open. “Derek? Wha… what are you doing here?”

Derek had been living with nothing for too long. He was used to it by now, having nothing and not having to do anything but after everything that had happened fighting Kanimas and hunters, he decided it was time for some normality. Well, whatever passed for normality when you were a werewolf.

He spent a few weeks focusing on finding a new apartment, something big and open so he wouldn't feel trapped. Somewhere that he could call home. It didn't take long, Beacon Hills was a small place, out of the way of the city so nobody really moved there. He found a loft apartment and put down a deposit as soon as he had seen the place.

Structure was what Derek decided he needed. He had a place to live, next on the list was to find a job. He stayed away from popular places like Starbucks where he knew he would be talking to people all day long. He applied for a few different places, most rejected him because of his lack of experience but he managed to get an interview from one, a pizza place that seemed to attract just the right amount of attention.

He turned up for a short interview and was hired almost instantly since all of the training for the job was provided and they seemed desperate for staff. He started immediately with his week of training which wasn't quite as easy as he had hoped. He burnt his arms several times while trying to pull the pizzas out of the oven but luckily the wounds closed right back up.

His mind was always on the job, though. The work was fast pace enough most days and he always had something to do which was exactly what he wanted. In the evening he could crawl into bed and sleep soundly in his new apartment.

Mama was kind and told him about the staff that would be taking over on the register for the summer. She thought he and Derek would get along well. The last person Derek was expecting to see was Stiles pushing the door open and walking into the kitchen. He frowned when he saw him, confusion setting in before everything pieced together and he realised that he was stuck working with Stiles for an entire summer.

He sighed, mostly to himself. "I work here." He replied curtly.

Stiles gaped. Could it be true? It had to be. Derek had an apron on, and as he stared at the apron he imagined all of his summer relaxation washed away by the dark cloud that was this man. He imagined Derek silently making pizza beside him, unwilling to engage in the casual banter Salvatore was so good at. He imagined Derek glaring at him if he screwed something up, Derek up to his elbows in flour, Derek working with his hands, Derek lifting heavy crates…

Blinking, Stiles got his mind back on track and decided he was still super pissed about this turn of events. “Oh God,” he finally said, “you must be Salvatore’s replacement. But why… when did… no. No, no no, I cannot spend my summer like this. Nothing dangerous happened here last summer and YOU are a… a powerhouse of bad luck. And I know if something goes wrong your ass is going to be off doing werewolf biz and I’m going to be stuck here doing double the work and trying to convince Mama Rosa that you’re in the freezer every time she comes back and checks on us. No, this is definitely a bad idea.” He put his hands on his hips, taking a long breath after his rant. “You have to leave.”

"You're the one that seems to turn up every time something goes wrong." Derek protested. And he was right. He had his fair share of unlucky 'wrong place at the wrong time' moments, but Stiles was at the centre of trouble wherever he went. "If you don't want to work with me maybe you should leave, a pizza place needs a cook more than it needs a cashier." He replied, plastering on a sarcastic smile and turning back to the dough he had been rolling.

He was happy with the job and he wasn't about to let Stiles ruin it. He wasn't sure he would be able to get another one but Stiles probably could since he was good with people. Not only did he enjoy it but he had become pretty good at it in the short amount of time he had been there. A few people had already commented on the pizzas he made and it made him kind of proud to be good at something, even if it was only pizza. So, if Stiles wasn't going to quit he was going to have to endure it and hope that Stiles wouldn't go out of his way to annoy him.

Eyes narrowing, Stiles straightened up with indignation. “I am not only a cashier, I’ll have you know.” Stiles made plenty of pizza when they were busy, but perhaps it was true that for some reason Mama Rosa had him at the register more than anyone else. He wasn’t going to admit it though. He knew he was good at cooking, and for reasons of pride, he needed Derek to know as well.

“People especially like my badass breakfast pizza and my loaded nacho pizza too. And… and you’re doing that wrong.” He pointed an accusing finger at the dough, though Derek wasn’t doing anything wrong and Stiles was already beginning to feel stupid.

Derek looked down at the dough he was rolling out before looking back up to Stiles. "I've not had any complaints since I started here, quite the opposite actually." Derek replied, half wondering if Stiles was telling the truth. He carried on the way he was going despite what Stiles had said. "Now if you don't mind, you should leave the cook alone while he's working." He smirked and tried to shoo stiles back out of his kitchen. He figured that as long as he and Stiles were separated by the counter between them he would be able to get through the day.

Stiles pouted. “You’ll be calling me Sensei soon, just you wait.”

He trudged out of the kitchen to the counter again, which was empty. It was a Monday, their least busy day of the week, and on top of that the lunch rush hadn’t even started so the place was dead. Stiles wiped the front of the glass display with windex, then cleaned out the display shelves and rotated the pizzas, cleaned the already-clean counters, and stared at the one customer until it got weird. His heart lifted when it struck eleven-thirty and Scott and Isaac strode in.

“Guys!” Stiles practically cried out.

Scott turned his way. Stiles could see from his face that he’d been talking about Allison. Isaac had that vacant look indicating that he’d had to listen to it. But it wasn’t in the least bit off-putting, Stiles would take his mopey best friend over almost everything on any day. Especially, _especially_ today.

“Guyyys, move faster,” he whined, clawing at the counter beside the register.

Scott and Isaac came over and Stiles sighed. “Derek is here.”

Scott’s gloomy look flipped over to concern. “Why? What’s wrong?”

“Everything is wrong. He works here now,” Stiles whimpered. “Derek is my… co-worker.” He dropped his forehead against the counter, confident in the cleaning job he’d just done.

Derek could hear everything Stiles was saying. He was hardly being subtle about his whining and the shop was small anyway. He sighed to himself and carried on wiping down his workstation in the kitchen. He knew Stiles had never enjoyed his company and he had never made much of an effort to try and change the teenager's mind. He reminded himself that he wasn't here to make friends and he carried on tidying up.

He preferred his work area tidy and organized so he knew where everything was between making each pizza. He imagined Stiles would be extremely messy and half of the toppings would end up over the floor instead of the pizza. He had to stop himself smiling at the thought and quickly got his mind back to the work. As much as he tried to tune the conversation out he could still hear Isaac and Scott trying to console Stiles.

"Things will look up." Isaac told him, as though Derek's company was the worst thing that could have possibly happened to them. He gritted his teeth and walked out of the kitchen to address Scott and Isaac.

"Are you ordering something or are you leaving?" He asked, staring at them and waiting for an answer. Stiles was bad enough, Derek didn't need every one of Stiles' annoying friends turning up to complain about his existence.  

Stiles straightened up and glowered. “No need to harass the customers, Derek.”

“Yeah we’re ordering,” Scott said quickly, apparently playing peacekeeper. “We’ll take a pepperoni pie to go.”

Stiles punched the order into the cash register. “Anything else?”

“I’ll take an orange soda,” Isaac added.

Derek wrote it down quickly just in case and he walked back through to the kitchen. He left the piece of paper on the worktop and walked further back into the shop to get all of the ingredients he needed to make Scott’s pie. He spent some time looking for an open bag of flour but instead had to open up a new bag when he could find an open one. Once he had everything he needed he laid it all out on the table and started on the pie.

Meanwhile Stiles gestured to the door where Derek had left, as if to silently confirm his misery. Isaac rolled his eyes and went to a seat to wait. Scott started to follow but hesitated. “Hey Stiles, can you come outside for a sec?”

“Yeah,” Stiles said, looking around. Mama Rosa was in her office, busy with paperwork and Derek was in the back where he couldn’t judge Stiles for slipping out. He highly doubted that the one old man eating mushroom pizza in the corner was planning to rob the register. He followed Scott out the front door. “What’s up?”

“Look, I just wanted to try and convince you not to make Derek miserable this summer.”

Stiles sighed. Scott was right. He didn’t need anyone to explain the benefits of keeping Derek… less grouchy. “Okay, fine.”

“Besides, it can’t be all bad, right?” Scott leaned close, speaking softly. “You know what you said about-“

“Tss!” Stiles hissed quickly. “I was drinking! I told you to forget that.”

Scott chuckled. “You had like two swigs of Morgan.”

“You’re still cruel for bringing up my skeletons,” Stiles said.  

Derek tried to tune their conversation out. They were the only two people speaking that he could pick up on so he could hear their voices pretty clearly. He didn’t usually enjoy listening in on what people were talking about, most of the time he heard things he really didn’t want to.

He assembled Scott’s pie and once he was finished he slid it into the oven for it to cook. He stood around, leaning against the counter. He heard Scott and Stiles’ conversation in full but didn’t think too much of it, other than the fact that Stiles was way too young to drink.

Once the pie was boxed up to go he brought it out for Scott who hadn’t returned yet so instead he gave it to Isaac along with his drink.

“Thank you,” Isaac said formally. He looked more than a little uncomfortable  being served by Derek.

Scott and Stiles continued to talk outside. Stiles felt even easier about it now that Mushroom Pizza Guy had left, and no one new had arrived yet.

“Listen Stiles,” Scott insisted, his voice still hushed, “You don’t have to make this a crappy situation. Maybe Derek won’t let you crawl into his lap like you wanted when you were drunk, but it doesn’t mean you can’t make things civil, at least.”

Stiles’s face went beet red. “I hate you for even voicing that aloud.”

Scott shrugged. “Yeah, well I’m sick of you two acting like kids. At least man up and get along with him. You’ve got all summer to get on good terms.”

Rolling his eyes, Stiles scoffed. “Easier said than done.”

Derek retreated back to the kitchen once he had given Isaac their order and he began tidying up again. He had flour half way up his arms and a little smudged over his shirt, he figured he probably deserved that for wearing a black shirt to a job where he handled flour all day. Sighing, he washed his hands clean and once the counter was wiped down he started washing some of the utensils he had used.

The sound of the water hitting the basin wasn’t nearly enough to drown out Stiles and Scott’s conversation. When he heard Scott whispering about Stiles wanting to climb into his lap he almost jumped in shock. Whatever movement he had made at hearing that revelation was enough to make him slip while holding a knife and slice open his finger. He hissed in pain and dropped the knife so he could run the wound under the cold tap as it healed itself.

Derek had already started the day off in a bad mood which was almost always the default. Now he was standing in the kitchen with blood all over his hands and flour in his hair and he was more than a little grumpy. He dried his hands and was just about ready to march outside and drag Stiles back to the register.

Isaac went outside to join Scott. “Hey Stiles, maybe you should get back in there, it sounds like Derek is throwing stuff around or something.”

“Shit,” Stiles muttered. He waved them off and hurried through the empty restaurant to the kitchen, where he found Derek standing with a bloody towel. “What the…!” He looked at the knife on the floor, at the bloodied flour on the cutting board and back to Derek. “You cut yourself!”

Immediately he went for the first aid kit on a nearby shelf. He knew where it was, having used the ointment and bandages on his burns in the past. He went to Derek and opened the bloody towel, half-shrieking as blood began to seep from the deep cut. “Jesus, why were you even using all that crap? We have dough ready in the fridge.”

"Just leave it, it'll heal." He huffed and pulled his hand back to wrap it back up in the towel, not wanting to get blood over everything in the mean time. "They were dirty from before, I was cleaning up while we're not busy." He clarified.

When he had nothing much left to say he remembered the reason he had cut himself in the first place, the conversation he accidentally overheard. He didn't bring it up, that would just embarrass Stiles and himself which was the last thing they both needed if they were going to be spending an entire summer together. Together, in a very small pizza shop.

Stiles handed Derek a wide band-aid. "Just humor me and put this on. If Mama Rosa sees it she'll freak out and make you watch the Kitchen Safety video."

Meanwhile he pulled up the removable carving counter, which was caked in flour and a little blood, and shoved it into the industrial washer. He stuck the knife in too and shut it, listening to the hiss as scorching water washed away the evidence.

"Sorry about earlier," he said, feeling guilty. "Me being a dick isn't going to make you better at this." He leaned against the almost unbearably hot washer, enjoying the heat on his back. "Firstly, the night shift always makes up pie-size balls of dough on the racks in the fridge. Just roll out the rack to get them room temp and you're set until after lunch rush. Secondly," he smirked, "when you're washing a knife, you don't hold it by the blade."

Derek sighed and let Stiles wrap his finger up even though it would have healed itself soon enough. He watched Stiles with a scowl as he tidied up the mess, not wanting to cause any more of a scene. He was a little taken aback by the apology but accepted with a silent nod.

"I wasn't holding the blade." He almost snapped. "Something startled me and I slipped. Why are you even in here just go and do your job." He added hastily, trying to shoo Stiles out of the kitchen incase he started asking questions.

Stiles made a face. "Maybe I will, then. I hope you and your sass have fun back here."

Grabbing a knife and a package of meat to keep him busy, Stiles left the kitchen. There was a cutting board behind the display and he chopped at the slab, making sizeable chunks for calzones.

He tried to cool off his irritation, but it was hard. It had never been easy to tone down his personality. Luckily the lunch rush began and he had something to keep him distracted.

Derek watched Stiles leave and once he was alone he began making pizzas ready for the lunch time rush. He was mostly working one handed for a while until his wound was completely healed and he could pick up the pace. He managed to make quite a lot before noon hit and customers began filing in.

As they placed orders, Stiles smiled charmingly at the customers. A lot of people were from Beacon Hills High, happy to be free from it for a while. Even though he was working, Stiles was just as happy. It felt good not having to ask his dad for cash. Not that they were financially unwell or anything like that. It simply made him feel a step closer to independence to pay for some of his own things. Plus there was the Jeep, and that sucked up money like a leech.

The line grew and Stiles began pounding on the register keys with more force. It really was a blessing that he was a people pleaser, with the amount of them waiting now. There were more pizzas waiting to be baked than the oven could take at once. And just when Stiles thought that Mama’s Pizza Restaurant would spontaneously combust, the lunch rush was over.

Mama came out of her office for the first time since the morning, patted Stiles on the shoulder and sat on a stool by the register. That signaled the time when he’d have to help Salvatore… well, usually Salvatore… when he’d begin helping Derek prep for dinner.

“Phew!” he sighed as he burst into the back. “That was intense for a Monday. And it was definitely because school’s out. Half the faces out there were from my classes.”

The readily made stack of pizzas that Derek had baked before the lunch time rush had dwindled quickly. He had the ovens stacked full of new ones while people were still outside ordering. It was exhausting. He had never thought baking could be so stressful. Eventually the rush of customers began to slow and he finally had a chance to breathe. With the ovens on full and constantly running the kitchen was boiling despite all of the windows being wide open. No wonder he had no competition for the job, he didn’t know how humans could handle it.

Once the rush was over he sat down and drank down an entire glass of water, trying to cool himself down. He looked up at Stiles as he walked in and although he didn’t believe working with him would be easy he was glad for the help.

“Does that happen every day?” He asked, not really wanting to hear the answer.

Thinking about it, Stiles shook his head. “Nah. It’ll happen once in a while but not daily.”

Stiles started pounding on a ball of dough he’d retrieved from the rack, spreading it and pulling it. After a full summer he was still mediocre at spinning them in the air, and he sure as hell wasn’t going to risk dropping a pie in front of Derek. He glanced at him, noticing how sweaty and exhausted he was, and hoped he’d stay sitting a while longer. Stiles took a furtive second glance. Sweaty was a good look on the guy, but Stiles kept that to himself.

“You’ll also get faster,” he encouraged. “That’ll make a difference, when you know where everything is like the back of your hand, and how to make things without thinking.”

Derek watched Stiles quietly from his seat, keeping it to himself that he would roll the dough out differently. Stiles' way of doing it was working just as well, even if he wouldn't admit it out loud. He didn't make a move to get up or help just yet. He had been on his feet for the last hour, running around the kitchen, not running... that was sure to get him a front row seat to the Kitchen Safety video.

Luckily the tiredness wore off in a matter of minutes. Once had had some water in him he was ready to go again. He moved to Stiles' side and took a ball of dough to work on himself.

"Do your friends come in here often?" He asked, trying to make casual small talk. This wasn't exactly his area but he doubted Stiles would notice.

“Yeah, Scott and the gang come pretty often,” Stiles said tentatively. “I won’t go outside with them every time, though,” he assured Derek. He didn’t want to start anything.

Thinking about going outside made him think about what had been talked about outside, and he worked at the dough a little harder before spreading sauce on it. Wow, he felt awkward. He hoped that werewolves couldn’t smell ‘awkward’ on humans or anything… that would make it even worse.

“So… what made you decide to get into the culinary arts, Derek?”

Derek shrugged his shoulders slightly, focussing on the dough he was rolling out. "It wasn't exactly my first choice." He replied as he followed Stiles' lead, spreading the sauce over the pizza base. "I needed a job, this was one of the places I applied for and they were the first to hire me." He explained.

Derek didn't exactly 'need' a job but Stiles didn't need his life story, he was probably only asking to be polite anyway. Doing what Scott had told him to do and keeping things civil.

He finished topping off his pizza with cheese while he thought about what to say next. "Uh... What about you?" He asked.

“Oh, it pays for my car. I’d say most of it goes to the car throughout the year, but sometimes I still have some spare cash. I’d also drive Scott nuts if I wasn’t doing something. He’s a ‘sleep in and lay around’ kind of guy and I’m a ‘let’s go on an adventure’ type of guy.”

Stiles was still curious about why Derek was here, of the specifics, but he knew he shouldn’t pry. Yeah right, he was going to pry. He was too curious. “But about you, you said you needed a job? Why? Aren’t you financially set up or something?” Stiles chuckled. “Are you here because you’re bored? Not enough chaos in Beacon Hills to keep you busy?”

"I just think a grown man should have a job. I don't like not having something to do, I think too much." He clarified. That was definitely all Stiles was going to get out of him no matter how much he asked. The fact that he had just spoken about thinking too much meant that he was now thinking too much. Thanks Stiles.

He moved onto another ball of dough once his first pizza was finished and he didn't ask Stiles anything else. He flattened the dough out in silence and expected Stiles to do the same. He didn't.

Blinking, Stiles hung on Derek’s last words. Getting anything personal out of the werewolf was usually like pulling teeth. Stiles could only take this as a subtle invitation to have a meaningful conversation. And as curious as he was, he wasn’t going to let it slip by.

He stopped working and leaned his hip against the counter, focus on Derek. “I can totally understand that,” he said earnestly, “the ‘thinking too much’ bit. I mean, there are also a million other reasons why I like to stay busy, but ever since Scott’s bite it’s been like, wow. Complete overload on new and horrible directions for life to head. Sometimes you have to drown it all out.”

Derek kept working while Stiles talked at him. He didn’t know how Stiles managed to talk so much and still get something done but judging by the way he was casually leaning against the counter he wasn’t likely to multitask. He wasn’t sure if he was supposed to respond or if he was just supposed to listen so he stayed quiet for a while, letting Stiles talk while he worked. Not exactly a surprising turn of events.

He was aware that Stiles’ eyes were on him, he tried to ignore it but he didn’t enjoy the scrutiny. Once his second pizza was finished and ready to go in the oven he turned to look at Stiles. “Yeah.” was all Derek said to him before moving past him to get to the oven.

Stiles watched him leave the kitchen with the pizza, and wondered if he’d miscalculated. Maybe Derek just wanted to work and brood? Fine, Stiles could do that. He pounded out another pizza before Derek returned, just to prove something, but nothing in particular. They worked side by side in silence, piling up pies until Stiles was biting the inside of his mouth from the tension. Being quiet was the hardest thing in the world. He wished that Salvatore hadn’t taken the kitchen radio.

He almost died of relief when his phone buzzed, giving him something to do. He pulled it out and read a text from Scott regarding a party this evening. Well, that would be fun. Getting back to work, he thought about the party and how it was probably a bad idea, and how he could use that kind of bad in his life. Non-life-threatening bad sounded rather good.

Glancing at Derek, he thought about how much of a stick-in-the-mud he was and how funny it would be to see him in that kind of setting. In fact, in the deep dream world of the never-to-be, it would be fun having Derek there in general. Stiles knew he would never go, but it would be fun to try and insist on it.

“So Scott and I are going to a party tonight, one of those awesome frat parties. There’s gonna be Beer Pong and darts and drinking and coitus, I can’t wait. I’m going to get so wasted.” He sent Derek a furtive glance. “Wanna go?”

Derek was half way through rolling out another ball of dough when Stiles had asked. It took quite a lot for him to not at least smirk at Stiles using the word ‘coitus’ as opposed to an alternative. He turned to look at him, mostly wanting to check if Stiles was joking or not. He hadn’t been invited to a party in years and he had never been to a frat party. He had turned up at parties for various reasons in the past but none of those reasons included having fun. Most of the time he just ended up with a few new wounds. Well, those were the downsides to babysitting teenaged werewolves.

“What about work tomorrow?” Was the first thing Derek said.

Stiles shrugged. “You know work doesn’t start until ten, which means plenty of sleep if I get home by… oh let’s say 3am.”

Derek had a lot of questions, including why Stiles even wanted him at the party, but he figured he had to start somewhere. “And why do you want me to go anyway?” He continued, too curious to keep quiet about it. Slowly, he turned back to the pizza base and continued his work, waiting for his answer.

Color crept up Stiles’ neck as Derek asked the question, his pulse quickening a bit. In the super, super deep, dark never-gonna-happen world, he had lots of answers for why he’d like to hang out with Derek. Most of said answers involved getting handsy and mouthy in a non-talking way. In the moderately dark world he would just like to get Derek comfortable enough to talk more to him, but he knew that was also hopeless.

He was getting redder, thinking about the first option again and tried to hurry up and think of an answer. “Well obviously so you can protect me from myself. I’ll be consuming copious amounts of alcohol and if Scott goes home with someone else I’ll need someone to drive the Jeep.” He looked at Derek with a ridiculous puppy face. “You wouldn’t let me drive home drunk, would you?”

Derek didn’t miss the hesitation but he didn’t think too much into it either. He kept his focus on the pizza he was working on as Stiles spoke. He couldn’t help feeling a little disappointed that he was basically being used as a free taxi service but what did he expect? Stiles didn’t even want to work in the same shop as him and they would hardly consider each other friends. Once his pizza was finished he turned to Stiles again so he could look at him while he spoke. “You’re not that stupid.” He stated.

Stiles was not as pleased by the complement as he should have been. “Okay, maybe I assumed you wouldn’t go for any other reason than to be useful. It’s not like you have much of a record of trying to have fun. If I… perhaps… said it would be fun if you went, would you possibly not be a dick about it?”

Derek shrugged slightly. “I won’t be a dick about it but it doesn’t mean I’m going to go to a party full of underaged and intoxicated teenagers.” He replied, brushing past Stiles again to put his pizza in the oven. He was oddly pleased the Stiles seemed to actually want his company outside of work but he didn’t show it.

“Dude, this is a college party.” Stiles insisted, once Derek returned to the kitchen. “Not everyone is going to be underage. Just… maybe half of them? Come on, there will be grad students your age. It won’t be weird.”

‘Casual Fun with Derek’ was an alien concept that he was getting excited at the prospect of. Since he couldn’t exactly explain why he wanted Derek to go, he tried to think of reasons Derek might want to.

“You could meet friends your age,” Stiles joked. “Or some girls? Yes? Perhaps partake in the activities, maybe make some bets on drinking games that you would undoubtedly win. Even if that is cheating- come on, just go!”

Derek leaned back against the counter they had been making the pizzas on. “I thought you wanted me to be the designated driver?” He raised his eyebrows at him. The party was beginning to sound like a good idea but he didn’t want to meet any girls. Thinking about his short list of past relationships he had decided things always turned out better when he kept to himself.

His hands were caked in flour again so he moved over to the sink and began cleaning himself up. Most of the time it was all in vain since he managed to get dirty again after about half an hour. He still hadn’t given Stiles a straight ‘yes’ or ‘no’ answer since he wasn’t sure himself, he would probably decide later.

“Wha..” Stiles thought it over, and yes, girls were a plot hole in his plans. “You were right about me not being that stupid, I wouldn’t really need a DD. But I’m also not saying you have to get busy, I only meant you could meet girls. You know? Like casual banter? A laugh or two? Though I would still love a Designated Driver if you were offering, I’d definitely like to actually drink. But I mean, whatever…”

Stiles decided not to push it. Derek would probably say ‘no’ if he kept pushing, or he might change his mind if Stiles talked him into it prematurely.

Derek just let Stiles keep talking at him, not interrupting him to reply. Once his hands were clean and dry he pulled the cleaning equipment out from under the sink. “Well, it looks like we have enough pizzas for now.” He said bluntly as he sprayed the work top. He hoped Stiles would take the hint and go back to the register for a while. Although he was genuinely beginning to enjoy Stiles’ company, and no he definitely wouldn’t admit it, it was all a little much for their first day working together.

Mama Rosa flipped the Open sign to Closed, signaling the day’s end. It was 9pm and no one had come in since eight, so Stiles and Derek had the place clean already. Stiles clocked out, hung up his apron and went outside. He hesitated at the door to the jeep, lingering, scratching the back of his neck, checking his phone without really checking it.

When Derek finally came outside, Stiles lost his nerve. “Oh, uh… well it’s been fun. See you tomorrow!”

He hopped in the Jeep and zoomed off. After a turn or two he texted Derek the address to the party, just in case he changed his mind.

To be continued.

 


	2. Chapter 2

Derek hung his apron up next to Stiles’ which seemed to have done nothing to keep the flour off of his clothes. He patted his pocket to check his keys were in there before walking over to his car parked next to Stiles’ jeep. He noticed Stiles was acting kind of strange but then again that seemed to be the boy’s default so he didn’t think too much of it. Once he climbed into the camaro and started up the engine his phone buzzed in his pocket. The address Stiles had texted him wasn’t really that far from his house, it was barely a ten minute drive.

He thought about it as he drove home, debating whether it was a good idea to go or if instead he should just crawl into bed and get some rest. He never made up his mind until he had peeled off his work clothes and showered. By that time it was almost ten and that was probably a good time to show up to a party, right? Maybe it was too early… He took his time picking out some clothes and he checked the text again before leaving his apartment and getting into the camaro. The apartment was locked up, he was in the car, there was no changing his mind now.

He looked at the text a third and final time as he pulled out of the driveway and headed to the address.

 

Both the Sheriff and Ms. McCall were working late, and both assumed that the boys were staying at the other’s house. It was a classic, and it had miraculously worked yet again. Scott and Stiles met at the frat house so that they had separate rides home.

After a short exploration around the crowded living room, bedrooms and pot-filled basement, Stiles was disappointed not to find Derek in the house. He felt a little mad at himself for getting his hopes up. It wasn’t like Derek had ever shown interest in hanging out with the teenagers, even though he did so out of obligation so often.

“What’s wrong?” Scott asked, bumping into Stiles in the living room. “You look like you’re looking for someone.”

“No,” Stiles lied. “Well, not specifically, just looking to see if we know anyone here. Nobody so far.”

Scott nodded. They had anticipated at least a few other students from BH High to have crashed as well, but it seemed they were the only ones. Stiles did his best to get them socializing, and Scott was cute enough that some of the girls invited them to sit with them. After a while they were downing beers and politely turning down pot, and everything was grand. Well, everything was grand for Stiles except his occasional thoughts of Derek enjoying his solitude in the bat cave, far away from him.

Derek pulled up outside and he could already hear the booming music from inside of his car. He locked up and shoved the keys into the pocket of his leather jacket before heading inside. If he had rolled the windows down in the camaro he would have probably been able to smell the pot from a mile up the road and that was only partly because of his heightened sense of smell. The place absolutely stunk of it and he was really hoping that wasn’t the reason Stiles and Scott were there.

He looked around the hallway which was packed with people standing around in small groups and talking, trying to be heard over the music. He couldn’t see Stiles yet and trying to smell him out was absolutely useless. So, he decided to do it the old fashioned way. He pushed past a few people in his way and walked into what must have been the living room.

Stiles was fantastic. He and Scott were sitting in a circle that was half on the couch and half around the coffee table. Scott had a fake moustache on, and Stiles was wearing a pink tank top that said ‘LOVE PINK’ on the front. His own plaid shirt was on the girl beside him, who wasn’t nearly as drunk as he.

The whole group reached into a plastic cup and each pulled out a popsicle stick. “Ooh, I’m King!” one of the girls giggled, waving a popsicle stick with a crown drawn on it. “Okay hmmm…I want two and six to trade pants. Who are two and six?”

Stiles looked at his popsicle stick, which read ‘6’ on it. “Me!” he shouted, and a skinny girl across from him waved. Stiles stood up, ready to trade pants. “Okay, we can do this. Challenge accepted!”

“Like hell!” she laughed. “You won’t fit in my jeans, you’ll tear them! We’re drinking!”

Stiles scoffed and the two of them drank, as were the rules for people who couldn’t obey the King. As he downed his drink, he swayed and fell back, Scott catching him. Everyone laughed and Stiles steadied himself, adjusting his pink tank top.

That’s when he caught sight of a familiar black leather jacket across the room, and a familiar face with it. Derek glared at him, and Stiles had no idea how long he’d been watching. But Stiles couldn’t have been happier, regardless. A huge grin spread across his face. “Derek!” he shouted. He staggered over to Derek, still smiling. “This is great. I didn’t think you were going to show.” He grabbed Derek’s sleeve, trying to tug him closer. “Wanna play Kings with us? It’s so fun.”

Derek narrowed his eyes at him and looked over the pink tank top. “I’m not playing a stupid drinking game with you, I have to drive home!” He huffed and grabbed hold of Stiles by his arm to stop him from swaying so much. “How much have you had?” He asked, not wanting Stiles to throw up before he even made it to midnight.

“Not that much,” Stiles whined, honestly. “Like three beers.” Though it usually didn’t take much. He wasn’t his dad yet, in that respect.

He leaned in a little closer, whispering. “I only thought… I only thought you could play because yanno, wolf resistance and whatnot. Scott’s had like ten and he still has to fake being drunk.” He gestured over his shoulder. Scott, having heard them across the room, gave the thumbs up as he adjusted his fake moustache. Stiles smiled hopefully. “And you don’t have to drink if you do what the King says, anyway.” Dizziness struck him and he held onto both of Derek’s sleeves for support. “Look, play a few rounds. I swear I’ll do whatever you want after that. I’ll drink water, I’ll go home early-ish, I’ll be super nice at work tomorrow! Yeah?”

Derek scowled at the floor for a while before making his decision. Although Scott was there he really didn’t trust him to look after Stiles. He sighed in defeat. “Fine, but I’m only here to make sure you don’t drink anymore. You so much as look at a shot and I’m taking you home.” He replied. It was hardly Derek’s idea of a fun party, he wasn’t really even there to join in since he was stuck babysitting. Again.

He followed Stiles back over to the circle, moving people out of their way so that Stiles didn’t knock them over. Or knock himself over, the latter probably being more likely.

“Everyone, this is Derek, Derek, everyone.” Stiles sunk into his previous seat on the floor as the party happily greeted Derek. They had even squeezed over on the couch so Derek could sit.

They all pulled out sticks and Stiles took two, handing one to Derek. Stiles had gotten four, and he’d snuck a look at Derek’s popsicle stick long enough to see that he was a seven.

“Sweet, I’m King,” Scott said, waving his stick. “And, I want… uhhh, one and seven to take off an article of clothing.”

The girl beside Scott kicked off her shoes, and the party whined that it wasn’t enough. Stiles waited for Derek to speak up. “Seven?” he asked.”Are you playing or what?”

Derek glared at Stiles for a while. “Stop looking at my stick.” He huffed out and decided that he would rather take something off than drink. He shrugged off his jacket as violently as he could. It turned out that it was pretty difficult to look intimidating while flailing around, pulling a jacket off your arms. Once his arms were finally free he dropped his stick back into the cup and went quiet.

They all replaced their sticks and drew new ones, and a guy grinned as he waved the crown stick. Everyone groaned, not having enjoyed his past ideas. “Okay, I want to see people make out. Full tongue too, no holding back. How about five and nine?”

“I’m five,” a girl said, looking around at them with worry over who her partner would be.

Stiles turned red. “Nine here,” he murmured. His partner looked slightly relieved, but he shook his head. “Sorry, I can’t.” He very well could, but for some reason he had zero desire to do it now that Derek was present. It was stupid and he felt embarrassed as he picked up his beer. Derek glared and so Stiles only took a tiny sip, just so he wouldn’t be kicked out of the game.

Derek was confused but he didn’t say anything. He didn’t want Stiles to drink any more but he also didn’t want Stiles to make out with anyone. Well, he definitely wasn’t going to think about the reasons behind that right now. He was relieved that Stiles had decided to drink instead but he watched him carefully to make sure he didn’t over do it.

He was so busy watching Stiles that he didn’t realize everyone was putting their sticks back into the cup for another round until someone tapped him on the arm. He put the stick back and pulled another one out as the cup was given a shake and passed around the circle. He looked at the number, he had four, and then shielded it from Stiles’ view.

A girl sitting across from him had gotten the king, she had waved it around to let everyone know about it before going quiet to think of the task she would give. Derek twirled the stick around in his hands as he waited before she finally decided.

“I want number two to take an item of clothing off number four… Two’s choice!” She grinned smugly at nobody in particular and dropped her stick back into the cup.

Derek waited silently for a few seconds to see who would have to undress him. He hated this game.

Relieved, Stiles chuckled. He felt a deal more comfortable tugging off random clothing than he did pressing his tongue into someone’s mouth in front of Derek. He looked around, rubbing his hands together. “Well I’m two, and I want a shirt. Who am I stripping?”

He looked around, as did the others, until his eyes met with Derek’s. The man looked embarrassed and furious, like he’d kill Stiles if he moved an inch in his direction. “Well, looks like I’m drinking again,” Stiles muttered, going for his cup.

“Ohh no,” the girl who was King said, snatching the drink before Stiles got to it. “You’re not getting out of this one!” She turned to Derek, pointing an accusing finger at him. “That kid was so fun before you showed up. Let him play the game.”

Stiles looked between them helplessly.

Of course it was Stiles. Stiles, who had chosen to take his shirt off instead of his sock or something. He continued to glare at Stiles like everything bad that had ever happened was his fault. The girl accusing him of ruining the game? Stiles’ fault.

Eventually he figured that glaring at him wasn’t going to get them out of the game so he pushed himself up off the sofa and stood in front of him, waiting for the inevitable. People were making some noise now, cheering Stiles on. Derek definitely wasn’t blushing.

Stiles couldn’t wimp out now, not with Derek begrudgingly on board. God, he was so embarrassed that he had trouble standing, and it definitely wasn’t only the alcohol making him awkward. He glanced at Scott for help, but he was looking off at the wall, deliberately useless.

His pulse was running a mile a minute. It wasn’t like he hadn’t seen Derek whip off a shirt before, but that had been Miguel and it had been for semi-legit reasons, and it certainly hadn’t been Stiles doing the work.

“What’s a shirt between friends,” he tried to joke, his voice high. He swallowed, feeling too close to him as he reached for the hem. And Jesus Christ, his hands trembled. That was it, he had to do this fast or die from further shame. He pulled it up and Derek helped a little by raising his arms, obviously not wanting to prolong the moment either.

Now that Derek’s T-shirt was off and the moment was over he felt kind of guilty. He couldn’t deny that that scaring Stiles was both useful and sometimes amusing but he didn’t want to ruin the night for him. He took his shirt out of Stiles’ hands, deliberately trying not to snatch it and he sat back down on the sofa for the next round of the game.

His popsicle stick had ended up somewhere down the side of the sofa but once he had fished it out and put it back in the cup it looked like everyone had moved on and was ready for the next round.

Stiles was relieved that he wasn’t called for anything for a few rounds. He even got to be King, and happily ordered someone to drink a shot of rum out of another person’s naval. That had certainly lifted his spirits and entertained the group. Derek also looked a little less hostile now… not to mention looking… Stiles blinked, not liking the adjectives his mind was coming up with for describing shirtless Derek.

And just when everything seemed to calm down, the Knights round of Kings began.

“Alright, here we go,” the female host said. “This round, the King gets to choose one of their two victims. No drinking to pass. You play or go home.”

Everyone groaned and pulled numbers. The king was the guy from before, who had been denied a make out. “Alright,” he said, I’m going to do a throwback to the eighties and make two of you do seven minutes in heaven. Okay, let’s make it eight.”

Stiles was not amused. He had already not wanted to make out with someone for a brief moment, and now seven minutes? “I’m eight.”

The guy blinked, and then laughed. “Okay, him.” He pointed to Derek. “And one of you better come out with a hickey or I’m calling bullshit.”

Derek looked around a little before realizing that he was definitely the one being pointed at. Which meant he was definitely the one who was going to be locked into a room with Stiles for seven minutes. He let out a long sigh and turned to look at Stiles. They either had to do it or leave the party and it wasn’t even midnight yet. He promised himself that he would let Stiles have a good time so it didn’t seem like he had much choice.

He kept his eyes on Stiles, trying to read his reaction but he seemed conflicted. Everyone was watching them now, they had both been silent for too long. Eventually, Derek stood up, grabbing his shirt off the sofa to take with him. “Come on then.”

“O-okay,” Stiles said in shock. He turned to Scott for some kind of emotional support, a thumbs up or down or anything, but Scott looked just as surprised as he was. Stiles hurried to get himself up. Quickly he pulled off the pink tank top, and the girl beside him got the hint and returned his plaid shirt. He hurried after Derek as he buttoned it up.

Derek had found the kitchen pantry which was big enough for them both. Stiles followed him inside, flicking on the dim light and shutting the door behind him. It was all a little unreal, being here in a closet with Derek, for this reason. The alcohol helped his nerves a little, but not enough.

He leaned back against the wall so he wouldn’t sway like a drunkard, and put his hands on his hips nervously. “So…” he said, quickly forming a plan. “I figure you can just go ahead and leave a mark on my neck so we have proof, and then we can just wait it out in here until seven minutes are up.” At this point he could no longer look Derek in the eye.

Derek didn't pull his shirt back on until they were inside the pantry. He flattened it down a little since it had been crumpled up and now had a few creases. He looked Stiles up and down, his plaid shirt looked too baggy on him in contrast to the tank top he had been wearing. "You know, the pink one suited you better." He joked, but Stiles looked nervous.

"We don't have to if you don't want to." He said quietly, keeping his distance. He didn't think Stiles would have much to object to after the conversation he had overheard but he wanted to make sure, he had been drinking after all.

Stiles rolled his eyes, reaching forward to grab the sides of Derek’s leather jacket. With his movements impaired by the alcohol, he pulled him in a little harder than he’d planned. Stiles had Derek right up against him now, and there was no going back.

“It’s just a game,” he mumbled, his eyes transfixed somewhere to the left of Derek’s shoulder.

Derek let Stiles move him where he wanted him. Since Stiles didn't have any objections he dipped his head down and pressed his nose into his neck, keeping his movements slow so that Stiles could stop him if he needed to.

Resting his hands on either side of Stiles' hips he opened his mouth and began sucking on a patch of skin just under his jaw line, not hard enough to leave a mark yet.

Stiles wasn’t prepared for just how much he liked it. Derek had barely done anything, but it was enough because it was Derek’s mouth, and he was holding him in just the right way. And oh God, was that his own breathing that Stiles could hear now? He didn’t even know, but his fingers tightened into the wolf’s leather jacket, a subtle plea for more.

Derek tightened his grip on Stiles’ hips, enough to keep him still but not enough to hurt him. He sucked on his neck harder, knowing that it would leave a dark mark when he pulled away. He didn’t pull away yet though. He could smell Stiles’ arousal and it spurred him on, making him want to do more than just give him a hickey. He moved his lips down a fraction and started again, kissing and biting gently at another patch of his skin.

Stiles tried to move just because Derek was holding him still, curving his back and trying to twist his hips. But Derek had him good, and the inability to go anywhere made it even better.

‘Was Derek enjoying this?’ Stiles wondered, suddenly. He’d assumed they were just getting it over with at the beginning, at least on Derek’s part. But now he was doing all sorts of good things to his throat. The possibility made Stiles feel like his temperature had climbed ten degrees.

“Can we... um…” Stiles stopped when his voice cracked, and he tried to speak more clearly. “Do you want to… uhh… actually make out?”

Derek pulled away when Stiles started speaking, letting go of his hips slowly as he processed his words. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and nodded quickly. “Yeah… yeah that’s…” He stopped, unsure what to say anyway, and started leaning into him again.

Unsure what to do with his hands he placed them back onto Stiles’ hips as he pressed their lips together.

Eyes falling shut, Stiles leaned into the kiss, his mouth working slowly against Derek’s. His hands slid from the leather jacket to the wrinkled t-shirt beneath, fingers twisting into the soft fabric. He could feel the warmth radiating off of Derek from here, and it was amazing.  
Not in a million years, or even an hour ago, could Stiles have anticipated this. Derek had agreed to come to a party… Derek had agreed to stand in a pantry with Stiles… and he’d agreed to this. It was unreal.

Stiles wanted to speak but he also didn’t want to speak, and what came out was a faint groan against Derek’s mouth. Well that was embarrassing, but he didn’t care half as much as he should have.

Derek moved one hand away from its place on Stiles’ hip and rested it against the wall beside his head, keeping them both steady. Leaning in closer, he pressed his body against Stiles’ and pinned him to the wall that he was leaning on. Not wanting to overstep his boundaries he made sure he didn’t try anything else, one hand firmly planted on the wall and the other loosely resting on Stiles’ hip so that he wasn’t urged to put them anywhere else.

The only noises he could hear in the quiet pantry were the sounds of their heavy breathing and the filthy noises that seemed to be escaping Stiles’ mouth.

A quick knock on the door made Stiles jump out of his skin. He and Derek put room between one another just as someone spoke through the door. “Alright guys, it’s been way over seven minutes!”

“Thank you very much for noticing,” Stiles barked back, only to hear someone cackling away. He turned back to Derek, fidgeting. “Well… I don’t really feel like going back out there to be howled at. Want to bail with me?”

Startled at the sudden noise Derek had pushed himself away from Stiles as quick as he could. He could see the marks that were already forming on his neck, even in the dim lighting. He smiled slightly and pointed at them. "Looks like all my hard work will be for nothing then." He joked.

Once he had flattened out his shirt he nodded. "Come on then, let's go." He said, reaching for the door handle. He hoped they would be able to sneak out without being noticed.

Stiles rolled his eyes. He would have been embarrassed if he wasn’t already embarrassed from everything else this evening. He followed Derek out into the kitchen, and they managed to go the long way around the staircase and past a crowd of people, avoiding the living room.

Maybe it was wolf senses, but in the brief seconds that they could be seen by the group playing Kings, Scott caught sight of Stiles. Scott raised his eyebrows as if to silently ask how things went, and Stiles shrugged. But he was leaving with Derek, and that wasn’t a sign of trouble, was it? Scott smiled and Stiles waved before heading out the door.

Stiles followed Derek across the front lawn and into the passenger seat of his car. “Can you take me to Scott’s? I can’t go home without the Jeep, and Dad thinks I’m at his place anyway.” He also knew that he could hitch a ride on the back of Scott’s bike to pick up his Jeep before work the next morning, even if doing it with a hangover wouldn’t be fun.

Derek pulled his keys out of his pocket and unlocked the camaro. "Sure, just don't get yourself into any trouble..." He said as he slid into the driver's seat. He fastened his seatbelt and waited for Stiles to put his own on before starting the car up and pulling out of the driveway.

The drive was quiet and a little awkward but Derek didn't know what to say anyway so it was probably for the best. He stopped the car outside of Scott's house which looked completely empty.

"Here we are... Do you need me to pick you up for work tomorrow? You don't have your car." He stated.

“I’m good. Scott is taking me to my car in the morning.” He quickly added, “Thanks, though.”  
A few seconds passed and Stiles decided he definitely didn’t want either of them to bring up what had happened. Maybe he was afraid Derek would wave it off as alcohol on Stiles’ part and a moment of insanity on his own, heat of the moment and so on. He didn’t want to hear the possibilities, so he decided to move things along.  
“Well thanks again for the ride,” he said in a rush, climbing out before Derek could speak. He used his spare Scott Key to get in, and made himself comfortable on the couch.

Derek sat in the car and watched Stiles until he was inside. Once he knew that he was safe he started driving home. The drive felt longer than usual and his mind was racing, trying to analyse what the hell had happened.

He hoped Stiles wouldn't bring it up at work, he definitely wasn't planning on it. He figured it might be best if neither of them brought it up ever again.

When he arrived home he stripped off and climbed straight into bed.

To be continued.


	3. Chapter 3

Stiles already felt exhausted when he arrived at Mama’s Pizza the next morning. Scott had let him ride on the back of his bike to retrieve the Jeep, and it’d been a harrowing experience when combined with a hangover.

 

With everything clean and ready to go, Stiles had nothing to distract him from remembering the party. Or more specifically, the pantry. It made his head ache even worse.

 

From the cash register, he glanced over at the kitchen doors with their two glass porthole windows. Plain, unsuspecting, but behind the doors was the object of his exhaustion. It was about time for Stiles to get in there and retrieve pies for the display case, but he didn’t want to go in. A few minutes passed and he huffed and pushed through them.

 

“Morning,” he grumbled. Derek was up to his elbows in flour. Stiles slipped past him to the rack of raw pizzas that Derek had already finished. He grabbed two of them and headed for the door.

 

Derek headed to work earlier than his shift started, working quietly in the kitchen to clear his head. He knew that Stiles would be turning up for his shift soon and he was trying to take his mind off it. He made more than enough pizza since he didn't know what else to do.

 

He was covered in flour again and he had only been working for a couple of hours by the time Stiles arrived. The jeep pulling up outside was loud enough for anyone to hear so he easily picked up on it. He made himself busy with another ball of dough and mumbled "morning'" when Stiles greeted him.

 

“You look sick,” Mama Rosa said with her hands on her hips, looking Stiles up and down.

 

Stiles tapped his fingers on the counter behind the register and shrugged. “I’m okay, just… long night.”

 

When he turned toward her, she glanced down, small eyes widening. “Ohhh,” she said, and suddenly Stiles realized she was looking at his neck. She smiled widely. “So you have a lady friend now, hm? She must be a real beast, putting marks on you like that.” Stiles paled. It had been easier when Scott was teasing him this morning, but Derek could probably hear this and he really, really didn’t want him to. He held a finger up to his lips, and Mama Rosa raised her eyebrows. She leaned in to whisper. “You don’t want the new guy to hear? Did you steal his girl?”

 

Stiles laughed at that, feeling mildly better. “No, no.”

 

Mama Rosa waved it off. “Well tell me about her. Just a little bit?”

 

Rolling his eyes, Stiles gave in. “Well ‘ _she_ ’ is… stubborn, serious, occasionally condescending…”

 

“Those don’t sound like good things,” Mama said with concern.

 

“I’m getting there,” Stiles said, the corner of his mouth turning up. “‘ _She_ ’ is constantly saving my sorry ass and taking care of me when I’m an idiot. She cares about us... my friends, I mean. And um…” Stiles wanted to say more, but he was already regretting letting his ADHD get the better of him. He’d said too much. “I dunno.”

 

Mama Rosa patted him on the shoulder and went back to her office, leaving Stiles to wait for the lunch rush.

 

Derek could hear everything that was being said from his place in the kitchen. He didn't appreciate being called a beast. He was about to pop his head through to the front of the shop and protest to the things Stiles was saying but that would have meant Mama Rosa finding out that it was him. Still kneading the dough, he listened quietly to what Stiles was saying about him and began to smile when he continued.

 

He wasn't really sure what their relationship was any more. Not long ago Stiles had hated the idea of working in the same shop as him let alone making out with him at some party. Some of that was probably due to alcohol, he just didn't know how much exactly. It seemed that Stiles had warmed up to him, even if he did think the kiss was a mistake. A sentiment that Derek didn't share.

 

The lunch rush began, and Stiles was on his toes between working the register and boxing pizzas, and keeping the restaurant area tables and floor spotless. The load wasn’t even as heavy as it had been yesterday, but Stiles was starting to feel like things were twice as bad.

 

Derek was working hard and still seemed fine, which made him feel even worse for falling behind. His head pounded as if he couldn’t shake the hangover, and he hit rock bottom when he pulled a fresh pie out of the oven and dropped it. His head had begun spinning when he lifted his arms to grab it, and before it made it to the cutting board it was on the floor and so was Stiles.

 

Stiles blinked, finding himself on his ass with the ruined pizza splattered on the tile between his feet.

 

Even over the noisy customers Derek managed to hear Stiles falling to the floor. He wasn't sure what was going on but he dropped what he was doing and rushed out to the front of the shop to check Stiles was okay. When he notice him lying on the floor with the remains of a pizza splattered nearby he rushed over to him and knelt down beside him. Checking him over quickly for any signs of injury, he grabbed a cloth from under the counter and bunched it up behind Sties' head. "What happened? Are you alright?" He asked quickly, clearly worried.

 

“I’m good, I’m good, I’m good,” Stiles said in a rush, arms flailing as he pushed himself into a sitting position. Sitting up made his head spin, and suddenly he was seeing double Dereks. He blinked it back and rubbed his face. “I just fell. I’m a little dizzy.”

 

“What’s going on here?” Mama Rosa said as she waddled out of her office. She looked at the customers in line and then at Stiles. “Oh honey, what happened?”

 

“I’m fine, I just tripped on my shoelace,” Stiles lied quickly. He glanced at Derek, silently hoping he would accept a real explanation later. Damn, this was pathetic.

 

Mama Rosa took over with the customers while Derek helped Stiles up off the floor, practically carrying him into the back. He put him into a seat next to a large open window and pressed his hand against his forehead to check he didn't have a fever.

 

He sighed in relief when he found nothing to be majorly wrong and he disappeared for a second to get Stiles a large bottle of water from the fridge. Handing the bottle to him, he leaned against the counter next to Stiles. "So, what's going on? I know you didn't trip, your shoes don't even have laces." He pointed out.

 

Stiles would have defended his very cool and retro Velcro sneakers if he had been feeling better, but the time wasn’t now. He took a long drink from the water bottle and then spoke with his voice down.

 

“Mama Rosa and her family, who own this business, don’t have a lot of money to do things that need to be done. Like the kitchen needs air conditioning and the floors need rubber mats to prevent slipping. She uses the safety video to compensate for all the crap wrong with this place, and if she thinks someone is going to get themselves hurt, she’ll fire them before fixing what’s wrong. I know it’s totally my fault this time, but I just didn’t want to put ideas in her head like I’m a liability.”

 

Stiles drank more, not realizing how thirsty he was until now. He quickly finished most of the bottle. “I guess I am kind of a liability, coming to work dehydrated with a hangover.”

 

“You’re a liability because you’re Stiles.” He smirked a little but spoke quietly. “I’m surprised you managed this long in a kitchen full of pointy objects and ovens, you always find a way to hurt yourself.” He shrugged and opened the window a little wider to allow some more fresh air to get in.

 

He stayed quiet for a bit and then realised that Mama Rosa was back to taking orders. Luckily all of the time he had spent getting pizzas ready that morning was paying off and all he had to do was get the right toppings on them and put them in the oven. He kept an eye on Stiles as he topped the pizzas and put them all in the oven together. Once they were cooked he passed them over the counter for the customers.

 

He returned to Stiles with another bottle of water once he had finished a round of orders. “By the way, I’m not letting you go out again on a work night.” He said sternly.

 

Something inside Stiles hopped up a bit, enjoying the bossy side of Derek. He’d be happy to hear Derek boss him around every day, not to say that he wouldn’t laugh and refuse half of the time. “I will gladly never do that again,” he said, simply because it was true. “...on a work night, I mean.”

 

Stiles finished the bottle and watched a bit guiltily as Derek continued to perform both of their jobs. Stiles stood and went to the window to feel the air, and also to see how his body was managing. Water had drastically helped, and the dizziness and blurred vision had been replaced with only a dull headache.  

 

“I’m better,” he declared, popping his head out of the kitchen. The front was devoid of people, the lunch rush already over. He returned to the kitchen and stood beside Derek to help him with pies for the dinner hours. “You should take a load off,” he said, bumping his elbow with Derek’s. He needed to work up to the ‘thank you’.

 

Derek glanced at Stiles out of the corner of his eye while he worked on his pizza. “Or you should sit down and eat something. When was the last time you ate?” He asked, still not looking at him. He already knew that the answer wouldn’t be very reassuring. He pretended to himself that he was making sure Stiles was okay out of convenience, that if he collapsed again Derek would have to do both of their jobs while making sure that Stiles was okay. In reality, he was just worried about him and although he knew that Stiles wasn’t his responsibility he wanted to look after him.

 

Stiles straightened up. “Excuse me, I am fully equipped to survive on my own in this world.” He thought briefly about the numerous times Derek had saved him and added, “...When it comes to feeding myself, that is.” He had eaten a healthy, well balanced breakfast of leftover Chinese food from Scott’s pantry this morning, a whole three bites before Scott had taken him to the Jeep.

 

Stiles sighed and took a tall stack of pepperoni and stuffed it in his mouth. He grinned at Derek, one cheek poking outward. “Mmh! Happy?”  Stiles chewed and swallowed, tilting his head to the side as he made up another pizza.

 

Derek shook his head. "Not even close," he said, turning to face Stiles and folding his arms across his chest. The fact the that there was flour all over his arms that was now smearing all over his shirt didn't really help his intimidation technique.

 

He reached into the back of the fridge and pulled out the sandwiches he had brought for his own lunch before handing them to Stiles. "Go and sit down and eat, it's about time for your break anyway." He pointed to the chair Stiles had been sitting on before. "I doubt we'll get many more customers so I can deal with the register for ten minutes."

 

Stiles watched Derek leave the kitchen and looked down at the bag of sandwiches. He was never going to let this happen again, ever. Stiles was responsible with school, so why had he gone so astray now? Maybe the start of summer had gotten to him, but he knew he would do better.

After finishing one he returned the others to the fridge for whenever Derek planned to eat them. He thought to himself that one man shouldn’t be able to eat that many sandwiches and still be able to look like Derek.

 

He popped up beside Derek and the register. “Thanks, you make a badass sandwich.” He still had to say something about Derek peeling him off the floor, but there was a customer seated at a nearby table and he just wasn’t ready.  

 

The day slid by, slowly for a while and then faster as the dinner crowd showed up. Even Scott visited, happy to tease Stiles and make it worse by encouraging Isaac as well. The restaurant finally closed, and after cleaning up, Stiles went to his Jeep. Again he waited, pretending to text Scott until Derek came out.

 

Derek was occupied in the kitchen for the rest of the day, getting pizzas ready for when the place got busy. He was slowly getting the hang of it and no longer had to rush around like he had done to start with. Not much else was said between him and Stiles but the silence between them wasn’t awkward which was something he was grateful for.

 

Once the shop closed up he hung his apron in the back and tidied himself up. The job was messy, or maybe that was just him, so he cleaned up as best he could to avoid getting the interior of the camaro dirty.

 

He shrugged on his leather jacket before stepping out of the shop and walking over to his car. Stiles always parked next to him so he spotted him leaning on the jeep as he walked over.

 

Stiles began put his phone in his pocket. He’d managed to get his dad to answer a text, and discovered that he’d be working at the station later tonight than expected.

 

“So,” he said casually, “I’m sure you’re tired of my mug after a long day’s work. But… if you’re hungry, and I’m assuming you would be since it’s late and I ate one of your sandwiches at lunch, I was thinking maybe I could make it up to you. I... um… I am capable of making something other than pizza, and my dad’s not going to be home for hours and so the house is…” He trailed off when he realized he’d been blabbing for ages, but he had to finish now. “Well, it’s empty.”

 

Derek nodded. He figured Stiles had done enough talking for the both of them, probably for the rest of the week. “Sure, lead the way.” He said, gesturing to Stiles’ jeep to signal him to get inside. “Unless you want to ride with me?” He asked, fishing the keys out of his pocket and unlocking the car. The day had been long but he wasn’t very tired, plus it was probably a good idea to eat something besides microwave meals and sandwiches. This way he could also make sure that Stiles ate and drank enough to avoid any more accidents.

 

As cool as he found the Camaro, he had to decline. “You’d better follow me. Dad will start asking questions if the Jeep is M.I.A. for two nights in a row.”

 

He climbed in and pulled out, looking in the rear view mirror for Derek’s car. It was silly though, since Derek knew where he lived anyway. As he drove, he thought about what was in the kitchen and what he could make. He didn’t really know what Derek liked and hated, but most of the foods his dad enjoyed were popular on any menu. He’d think of a plan and a backup in case Derek wasn’t fond of the first.

 

As they drew closer to home, Stiles was definitely, not even a little bit thinking about the fact that he was making dinner for Derek Hale and that Derek had agreed to this. It wasn’t exciting either. Nope, not a bit. Stiles chewed on his bottom lip, the corner of his mouth pulling into a smile.

 

The house was dark when they entered, and Stiles flicked on each light as he headed toward the kitchen. He patted one of the bar stools for Derek to sit at, and then turned. “So, I was thinking fettuccine alfredo with chicken and broccoli? We also have peas or asparagus if you like one of those better. We’re pretty well stocked with the veggies since I’m trying to introduce my dad to green food.”

 

Derek knew his way to Stiles’ place like the back of his hand. He had been there plenty of times, he could probably find his way without even thinking about it. Nevertheless, he followed Stiles’ jeep the whole way there and pulled up behind him in the driveway. He climbed out of the camaro and followed Stiles inside and straight to the kitchen.

 

He nodded along to everything Stiles was saying, scrunching his nose up at the talk of all the vegetables. “Whatever you recommend is fine with me.” He said with a shrug. Derek could hardly make an informed choice when it came to food, it was only a week ago that he had burnt poptarts in the toaster.

 

“Okay, sounds good,” Stiles said, getting to work. He set out a pot of water to boil for the fettuccine and then a smaller saucepan for the alfredo sauce, where he combined whipping cream, butter and parmesan cheese.

 

“So…” he began as he took the raw chicken out of the fridge. He held the bag, fiddling with it. Stiles wasn’t good with silence. “Do you watch any shows? Walking Dead? Boardwalk Empire? Sherlock?”

 

Derek watched quietly from his seat, wondering whether he should offer his help. He watched Stiles moving around quickly and decided it was probably best to let him get on with it. It was quiet until Stiles spoke, the only noise was the sound of the stove heating up the contents of the pans. “I watch Sherlock… not the other two.” He admitted. He didn’t really watch much TV, preferring to read when he had spare time.

 

“Oh God, nice,” Stiles said. “Scott basically just watches MTV so I have nothing to talk about with him. Do you like the newest season? I haven’t started it yet, what with finals and all the Beacon Hills madness.”

 

He took out another pan, prepared a pair of chicken breasts and stuck them in a pan.

 

Derek smiled and nodded even though Stiles’ back was turned to him. “Yeah, it’s good. We should watch it.” He replied without thinking. “I mean you- you should watch it. The new season, I mean.” He stammered. He went quiet after that and stared down at the table so that he didn’t have to look at Stiles.

 

Stiles kept his back to Derek. “Yeah you’re right, I shouldn’t fall behind on a show as awesome as Sherlock. It’s just too bad that I…” he sniffed, “have to watch it all by myself.”

 

Not being one with patience, ever, Stiles turned around and grinned at him, biting his bottom lip.

 

Derek looked up from the table and nodded slightly. “We could watch an episode tonight… Or you can watch it with Scott or something, whatever.” He shrugged, trying to be casual. He wasn’t sure if Stiles really did want to spend time with him or if he was just making small talk like they did at work.

 

It took everything for Stiles not to bark about obviously preferring to watch it with Derek. Instead he turned back to the sauce to stir it and turn down the heat. “Yeah, we should watch an episode after dinner.” The water was boiling so he stuck the pasta in, pushing down the noodles as they softened.

 

He started going on about the end of the first season of Sherlock and how he’d seen some spoilers online about a girl and a moustache, but nothing that might ruin it. Soon enough everything was ready, and he assembled two plates with fettuccine alfredo and diced chicken breast. He brought the two plates to the bar and sat beside Derek.

 

“Oh crap,” he said suddenly, “I forgot the broccoli.”

 

Derek stayed quiet and let Stiles talk, not wanting him to change his mind. He quite liked listening to Stiles, even if half the time he didn’t make any sense. He didn’t really talk much at work except for short bursts when they took breaks.

 

He moved his arms off the counter to make room for his plate which was thankfully lacking any broccoli. “Trust me, it’s fine without.” He smiled and picked up his fork, ready to eat.

 

Stiles got the hint and smiled back, twirling his fork in the pasta and taking a bite.

 

They chatted a bit, Stiles hounding him with questions about favorite foods and least favorite ones, and more about theories on the next season of the show. After dinner, Stiles stuck the dishes in the washer. Usually he would put them in the sink and do them later, but his dad seeing two of them might spring up questions. He still wasn’t looking forward to his father seeing the fading mark on his neck.

 

Washing his hands, Stiles looked around. “Okay, TV. Right…” He headed into the living room, glancing at Derek to follow, and plopped onto the couch as he started searching the DVR for recorded episodes.

 

Derek followed Stiles through to the living room, sitting at the opposite end of the couch. It’s not that he didn’t want to sit next to Stiles, because admittedly he did, he just didn’t want to make Stiles uncomfortable. So he sat near the arm of the sofa, leaving an entire seat between them.

 

He realized when the episode started that the distance between them seemed a little unnatural. He didn’t want to move closer though. He stayed where he was, trying to relax but failing miserably, while he waited to see what Stiles would do. He found that concentrating on the episode became much harder when he had so many thoughts swimming in his head.

 

Stiles noticed the gap between them, and wondered what it meant. Maybe it was a message that Derek wanted to establish an only-friends relationship from this point. Or maybe he wanted to sit closer but wouldn’t, for some reason? Stiles was hoping for the latter.

 

Still, he supposed he’d have to deal with the gap. The show grabbed his attention and he began to relax, still fidgeting like he usually did. He put his feet on the coffee table and when he got tired of that, he shifted to sit with them beneath him. Slowly Stiles leaned against the arm of the couch, feet sliding into the middle seat. Stiles shifted a bit more and jumped back when his feet accidentally touched Derek’s leg. “Sorry,” he said, clearing his throat.

 

Derek couldn’t help but smile a bit, looking over at Stiles. “It’s okay. You can touch me, I don’t bite.” He replied even though it was probably a poor choice of words. He couldn’t pinpoint what was wrong but things seemed off between them. No matter how much he tried he couldn’t seem to relax. The TV didn’t hold his attention for very long before he had things on his mind again. He had thought about making up an excuse and going home but he didn’t want to be rude since Stiles had cooked him dinner.

 

Rolling his eyes, Stiles nodded at Derek’s assurance. He watched the show for a few more minutes, mind not really on it. He glanced at Derek, who looked uncomfortable now. He had to remind himself that Derek had willingly come over, and he’d been more than happy to shoot him down in the past for even more important requests. So if he wanted to be here, what was wrong?

 

Stiles decided that if Derek wasn’t going to bite, then he could chance a little risk. Sliding his feet farther, he kneaded the side of Derek’s leg and smiled. “Hey, what’s up?”

 

Derek looked down at Stiles’ feet and then back up to his face. “Hm? Oh, nothing.” He lied. “Having trouble concentrating. I’m probably just tired.” He said with a shrug. Eventually he leaned back a little, sinking into the couch cushions and trying to at least look relaxed even if he wasn’t. He was aware that Stiles was still looking at him but he kept his eyes focused on the TV for a while. He played with the sleeves of his jacket which he had forgotten to take off when entering the house.

 

Now Stiles was worried, and more confused than before. He sat up a little. “Dude, you don’t have to stay if you’re tired. I mean, I want you to stay, but I don’t want you to stay if you don’t want to stay.” Stiles frowned. “Did that make any sense?”

 

Derek nodded to show his understanding. “You want me to stay?” He asked, even though he had already heard Stiles perfectly. He was a little tired but he was mostly making up excuses so that he didn’t have to explain the mess his head was in. He didn’t know what their relationship even was anymore and he didn’t want to screw things up monumentally by assuming they were more than friends. He didn’t have any excuses like he’d had at the party.

 

Stiles wanted to ask if _Derek_ wanted to stay, but decided that he’d just be putting them into an infinite loop of indecisiveness.

 

He sighed. “Yes! Yes Derek, I want you to stay. If I only felt guilty for you helping me out today, I would have bought you dinner somewhere probably lame, and made it quick. I definitely wouldn’t have invited you over and made you chicken alfredo. And I definitely, _definitely_ wouldn’t have started watching Sherlock with you… out of guilt, I mean.”

 

Stiles huffed, looking at the TV and then at the floor, and then back to Derek with a frown. “And you can’t tell me you’re here to do me a favor or something. It’s not like I’m sick. So just… can you tell me what’s bugging you? Or give me some idea what’s going on in that wolfy brain?”

 

Derek huffed in frustration and turned himself to face Stiles on the couch. “I just don’t know what’s going on with us, okay? You hated me a week ago and now we’re watching Sherlock and you’re cooking me dinner. The hickey that I left on you is still there by the way and I just don’t know what this is!” He snapped, voice raising slightly.

 

Once that was out of his system he let out a long sigh, it was kind of nice getting it out of his system. “If you want to be friends that’s fine, it’s better than fine actually, but friends don’t make-out with each other.”

 

Stiles was silenced out of shock, but after a few moments he spoke, trying to keep his voice even. “I didn’t hate you a week ago. I probably acted like it, possibly said it too, but it was only because I expected… I don’t know, when you don’t want to be nice, you’re really good at not being nice. I was expecting that. But I didn’t hate you.”

 

He studied Derek’s face, trying to gauge his reactions. Stiles moved to sit completely sideways on the couch so he could face him, and pulled his knees up to his chest. He had to say something balanced, something that would be okay either way, something that wouldn’t make things awkward at work tomorrow. That’s what he had to say, but instead, he blurted out exactly what he felt.

 

“I don’t know what this is either, but I just know that I really want to do this again. The dinner, I mean, and the Sherlock, and… the marks on my neck. Open invitation. Whenever you want.”

 

Stiles stared at Derek, unable to believe what he’d just said. But it was too late, and now he’d have to wait.

 

Derek nodded in understanding, unsure what to say after taking it all in. Stiles hadn’t helped much in clarifying their situation but it was good to know that he wanted more than just a friendship when he wasn’t drunk. Just to make matters even more confusing he made a heat of the moment decision to bring up the conversation he had overheard on Stiles’ first day. “You know, I heard you and Scott talking on the first day we were working together… I mean I heard _everything_.  You underestimate werewolf hearing.” He joked lightly, trying not to embarrass Stiles or himself any more.

 

Wide-eyed, Stiles stared at the other, horror creeping onto his face. “Oh. No, no. Listen, that’s not what it sounded like. I mean, yeah it’s true I… Okay, I’m really into you, but I swear I don’t just mean that I want to… I mean I want to, but I don’t _just_ want to.” He rubbed his face. “Jesus.”

 

Derek couldn’t help but grin and laugh a little, shuffling a little closer to Stiles on the sofa. “So… Is it only when you’re drunk that you want to jump me or not?” He smirked, feeling a lot more confident now that he had pulled a confession out of Stiles.

 

Stiles blushed furiously and glared. “I am not a completely different person when I’m drunk, you know.” As he said this he leaned forward and climbed onto Derk’s lap, legs on either side of his hips. If the cat was out of the bag, he might as well. He leaned in and kissed him, then pulled back, laughing. “Is that why you cut yourself with the knife? Because you heard?”

 

Derek stared up at him, wondering why the kiss had stopped so suddenly. “Oh, well, yeah… It took me by surprise.” He smiled a little and leaned back up for another kiss, pulling Stiles closer as he did. He let one of his hands rest on Stiles’ lower back and grabbed his thigh with the other, not really sure what to do with them.

 

“Oh wow,” Stiles murmured against Derek’s mouth. He put his hands over Derek’s, encouraging him. “I really like the touching thing.”

 

Once he was sure Derek wouldn’t stop he locked lips with him again, his own hands holding onto Derek’s shoulders. One slipped up and ran through his short hair and resting on the back of his neck. He still couldn’t believe he was allowed to touch him, that he wasn’t getting thrown to the other side of the couch. Unconsciously his body began to rock, a slow rhythm against Derek.

 

Eventually Derek sunk into the kiss and allowed himself to relax. He stopped thinking about what he should be doing with his hands or his mouth and he just let it happen. He moved his hand down from Stiles’ lower back and cupped his arse through his trousers, moving against him without thinking. The TV had been completely forgotten and he didn’t realize how late it was getting.

 

Stiles kissed him harder, gently nipping at his lip. He moved to his neck, kissing and biting and sucking. He knew it would take more than he could give to leave a mark on a werewolf, but he enjoyed it anyway. He could feel the light dust of stubble running down from Derek’s jaw, and his pulse beneath is lips.

 

All sorts of dirty thoughts began to fill Stiles’ mind, none of which were new to him. Of course he couldn’t do that now, on the couch, but just thinking about it urged him forward. He wanted to make Derek feel good.

 

Derek dropped his head back against the back of the sofa and groaned quietly, tilting his head to the side so that Stiles had better access to his neck. He brought one of his hands up to the back of Stiles’ neck, scraping his fingers through the short hair there.  He arched up off the seat a little to press his hips against Stiles’, his erection already pushing against his jeans. Eventually, he brought his hands to the front of Stiles’ jeans and hastily began unbuttoning them.

 

Stiles arched his hips up so Derek had better access to his jeans. He couldn’t remember ever being this turned on in his life. Derek Hale melted him like butter in a pan. “God, I want you so fucking badly,” he groaned, and then jerked back as his phone vibrated in his pocket.

 

The theme song for Cops began to play and he groaned. “Shit, that’s my dad. Hold on…” He pulled it from his pocket and to his ear. “H-Hey Dad, what’s up?”

 

“I’m at the store, do you want anything to eat?”

 

Derek groaned quietly in frustration but carried on anyway. Leaning forward, he closed his lips on an unmarked patch of Stiles’ neck and began sucking and biting at it. He kept Stiles’ hips in place, holding him with a firm grip so that he couldn’t squirm around too much. When the phone conversation wasn’t over immediately he decided to take more drastic measures. Slowly, he began sliding one of his hands up Stiles’ thigh and over to his now wide open zipper.

 

Stiles was going to die. Right there, he was going to die if his father didn’t stop talking. “I really don’t need anything, Dad,” he whined, his voice unsteady as he felt Derek’s hand on him. Oh God, this was bad...

 

“Alright, suit yourself,” his father said, not rushed at all. “I’ll be home in fifteen minutes. See you.”

 

Stiles hung up and dropped the phone off the side of the couch, pulling at Derek’s clothes and rocking harder. “Damn it, you have to go but I don’t want you to.”

 

Derek’s hand had snuck into Stiles’ jeans and he was squeezing his erection through his underwear. Huffing, he looked up at Stiles and stopped moving his hand. “I heard…” He said, gesturing to the phone and letting out a long sigh. “I don’t think there’s enough time to do anything else…” He said with a slight pout. He removed his hand from inside of Stiles’ jeans and started buttoning them back up. “I guess we’ll have to continue this another time?” He asked, hopefully.

 

“You better give me your word on that,” Stiles said miserably as Derek closed the button on his jeans. He was beginning to fume at the very universe for ruining this for him until he finally cut off his internal storm. “Okay I’ll get up,” he grumbled, backing up and standing.

 

Derek stood up after him and adjusted his clothes back to the neat way they were before. He slowly walked over to the front door and stood by it with Stiles. "Thank you for dinner, it was lovely." He smiled and leaned in for a quick kiss before opening the door and walking out to the camaro. Once he had climbed inside the car he took a few calming breaths and backed out of the driveway.

 

Stiles stood in the doorway as Derek drove off. Before he had time to step inside, he saw his dad’s car pulling around the turn and then into the driveway. “Look at you, waiting for me,” the Sheriff said as he walked up the steps. He sounded both amused and concerned. “Something wrong?”

 

“Definitely not,” Stiles said, trying to hide his grin. They headed into the house and his father opened up a package of chicken and curly fries. Stiles snuck in and stole a fry before he went to the fridge to get his dad some ice water.

 

“So how’s work been?” his father asked, “Busy? I haven’t seen you in two days.”

 

“Well yeah, long hours and so much fun to be had with Scott afterward.” Stiles brought the glass of water back to his dad, and was surprised when the Sheriff snagged his sleeve.

 

He leaned in and then looked Stiles in the face. “What’s all that on your neck? Did you meet a girl?”

 

Stiles paled. “N-No! I mean, well yeah I met somebody… Scott and I went to the… the mall! And we bumped into some people…at the mall...”

 

The sheriff looked legitimately concerned now, staring at his son’s neck. “Please tell me you used protection.”

 

Stiles pinched the bridge of his nose. “Seriously, we can’t be talking about this.”

 

“...because I’m not ready for grandchildren.”

 

Laughing, Stiles shook his head. “Don’t worry. You are totally jumping ahead of things. I’ve got to go to bed.” Stiles hurried out of the kitchen before his dad could ask any more questions.

 

Derek drove himself home as quickly as the speed limits would allow. Driving with the windows down had calmed him down a little. He checked the clock when he got inside the loft and began stripping off for bed. He crawled into bed with a sigh and began to doze off as soon as his head hit the pillow.

 

He shut his alarm off the following morning and reluctantly dragged himself out of bed. The loft was always cold in the mornings which was never nice to wake up to. He showered quickly and dressed himself for work before making some food. Cereal was always the go to breakfast food since it only required two ingredients and no fire.

 

After he had climbed into the camaro it hit him that he would be seeing Stiles again in a few short hours. He wouldn't admit to himself that the thought made him drive a little faster than usual on the way to work. He would also deny being smitten should anyone say anything.

 

Stiles had spent the morning being hounded by questions from his dad. As he slipped out the door, the Sheriff had made him promise to call if he ever went somewhere, anywhere in the world. It gave Stiles the distinct feeling that his dad just wanted Stiles to have him on the mind. And it was a smart move. There was nothing more contraceptive than thoughts of one's’ elders. Too bad it wouldn’t be enough.

 

He sang along with Creedence Clearwater on the radio as loudly as he could, all the way up to when he parked beside Derek’s camaro. Stiles had never been this excited for work before. He whistled the song as he entered the pizza parlor and pulled on his apron.

 

Stiles pushed open the swinging doors to the kitchen and went inside. Derek was standing at the table making pizza. “Good morning, sexy,” Stiles said with a goofy smile, leaning against the counter.

 

Derek looked over his shoulder when he heard Stiles coming into the kitchen. He had heard his singing half way down the road but it was nice to actually see him. “Someone’s in a good mood today.” He said with a smirk, turning back to the pizza he was working on. He had been in for an hour already, taking his time making the pizza bases and waiting for Stiles to get in. He prefered getting some made before the lunch rush so that he wasn’t in too much of a panic when things got hectic.

 

Stiles playfully bumped his hip against Derek’s and headed back to the cash register. Lunch rush came and went with sweat but not too many tears. Things slowed down to a dead stop again and Stiles went into the back to help Derek.

 

The little bell attached to the front door jingled and Stiles raised his head from his work. “Better get that,” he commented, dusting the flour off his hands and going to the register.

 

Derek nodded and resumed his own work, getting a few pizzas ready for the dinner rush or anyone who came in before then. He didn’t pay much attention to the chatter going on in the front of the shop but it was difficult for him to drown it out completely.

 

The guy was leaning on the counter when Stiles walked in, fiddling with the money he had in his hand to pay with. He looked up when Stiles walked in and asked his order, straightening up a little when he looked him over properly. “I’ll have a medium margherita please.” He smirked and handed over the money. “Do you work here every day?” He asked, leaning forward on the counter slightly.

 

Derek’s interests peaked up a little. He had heard the order and had already begun to work on it but he stopped briefly to listen in to what was going on.

 

“Margherita pizza coming up…” Stiles said, typing it into the register. “When do I work? Monday through Friday.” He wondered why the man cared to know, and could only think that maybe he had a friend who worked at Mama’s and wanted to know if they’d met. “Why, do you know someone else who works here? Cindy or Rodrick?” He leaned a little closer to the man, whispering. “If it’s Salvatore, he got the axe.”

 

"Um, no." The guy replied. "I was just interested in you." He grinned, assuming he had made his intentions clear.

 

Derek huffed to himself and worked a little more violently on the pizza than was probably necessary. He made it as fast as he could, trying to get the pizza finished so that he could make the guy leave.

 

Stiles stood there with his mouth open, not sure what to say. “Well that’s…” he began, voice high. “Flattering? But I’m...” He cleared his throat. “Well there’s this guy I really like, and I just can’t.”

 

The guy pouted and was about to speak when Derek burst out of the kitchen carrying his boxed pizza. He hadn't even managed to close the lid properly before he was handing it over to the guy and waiting for him to take it. "Enjoy the pizza. Bye." He said, looking over at the door.

 

Stiles gaped as he watched Derek disappear into the kitchen. And then he smiled, thinking how cute this new side of Derek was. He glanced back at the customer, who had a scowl on his face, and knew he’d been caught swooning. He shrugged.

 

Derek rushed back into the kitchen to avoid embarrassing himself any further but he still listened to hear the guy leaving. Sure enough he left a few seconds later which Derek considered a win. He returned to the pizzas to make himself look busy.

 

An elderly couple entered the pizza shop and came to the register, preventing Stiles from going to the back to talk to Derek. He nodded and smiled and took down the order for Hawaiian pizza as quickly as he could, and brought it back to Derek himself.

 

Stiles saw Derek working with his back turned, probably pouting, and came closer. He squeezed himself between the counter and Derek, facing him, and straightened out the other man’s apron. “I didn’t know the sourwolf could get jealous like that,” he teased.

 

Derek shrugged and tried to work around Stiles but he couldn't. "I'm not jealous, I don't know what you're talking about." He looked down at Stiles' lips and then gave him a quick kiss before moving away to get the pineapple chunks. Stiles was still in his way when he got back.

 

“I was relieved, honestly,” Stiles said, taking the can of pineapple from Derek. “I didn’t know how to get rid of the guy. Though next time we’ll have to find a way so the customers still come back. I don’t think Mama’s Pizza will ever see that dude again.”

 

Smirking, Stiles turned around so that Derek was pressed up against him from behind. He began adding the fruit and sprinkling sliced ham over it as well.

 

 

Derek slowly wrapped his arms around Stiles’ waist from behind and he rested his chin on his shoulder. “I didn’t exactly want him to come back.” Derek murmured, close to his ear. He watched Stiles finishing off the toppings on the pizza, realizing that he had to let go of him. He didn’t though. He stayed there for a moment longer, staring down at the pizza before finally letting go and stepping back to give Stiles some room.

 

Feeling lightheaded and warm, Stiles turned around and gave Derek a kiss on the cheek. “I’m going to cuddle you so hard next time I get a chance.”

 

He grabbed the Hawaiian Pizza and reluctantly went out to the front to put it in the oven, happily ignoring the disapproving look on the older gentleman’s face for taking so long.

 

Derek chuckled to himself and kept smiling for at least ten minutes after Stiles had left. He didn’t even realize until his cheeks started hurting. He carried on working quietly, taking his time making the pizzas since he had already made plenty. The dinner rush came and went and eventually it was time to close up the shop. He tidied up before taking off his apron and hanging it up. Once the kitchen was clean he washed his hands and made sure that everything was turned off.

 

Stiles never knew what took Derek so long in the evening, but he suspected it was a little something he didn’t have, called ‘work ethic’. No, that wasn’t true, he had work ethic. Derek just had more.

 

So he waited, casually wandering on his feet and texting his dad. The Sheriff responded that he was coming home early, and Stiles sighed. Derek finally came out into the parking lot and Stiles looked his way. “Looks like I can’t invite you back tonight. Dad is supposedly coming home early. I’d say it’s a 50/50 chance between being the truth and a lie to get me away from the hypothetical ‘girl’. I’d like to see the look on his face if he knew it was really this smoking hot werewolf guy.”

 

Derek walked out to his car and leaned against the bonnet as he spoke to Stiles. "You do know I have an apartment, right? An apartment without parents." He said as he unlocked the car. He checked the time on his watch, they always shut up the shop earlier on Wednesday because it was the middle of the week and nobody ordered past seven anyway. "Or we could go out." He shrugged.

 

Stiles smirked, rolling his eyes. “Yeah, we could go out.”

 

He came over to Derek and then moved past him and got into the passenger seat of the Camaro.

 

Derek smiled and climbed into the driver’s side. “You know, I was planning on washing the flour out of my hair before going out.” He clipped his seatbelt on and started up the car as he spoke.

 

Laughing, Stiles put on his seatbelt. “I have no idea how you always get so messy back there. So we’re stopping at your place, then? Quick rinse before going out on the town?”

 

Derek reversed out of the parking space and started driving towards the loft. “Out on the town?” He scoffed. “We’re only going for dinner, don’t get your hopes up. I’ve barely eaten anything all day.” He clarified.

 

Stiles wanted to make a, ‘let’s get pizza’ joke but he resisted. “Getting dinner is basically the same as going out on the town,” Stiles said. “It’s not like Beacon Hills has much of a town anyway. Or maybe that’s just the antsy local in me.”

 

They chatted until they reached Derek’s loft, and Stiles looked around the place a little more closely this time. There were no bad guys or business to be had now, and the place was quiet and nice. Stiles flopped on the blue, velvety couch and crossed his legs. “Where is the bathroom anyway? Upstairs?”

 

Derek nodded and shrugged off his jacket to hang up by the door. “Yeah, it’s ensuite.” He said, dropping his keys in a bowl next to the door. “The remote for the TV should be on the sofa somewhere. I’ll be back in a minute, don’t break anything.” He pointed his finger at Stiles and headed up the spiral staircase to get to his bedroom.

 

“Rude,” Stiles said, nose in the air. When Derek was gone, he lifted the remote and set it down, changing his mind. Standing up, Stiles dropped his jacket on the couch and wandered around the apartment. He didn’t consider it snooping since everything was basically in the same room. Free for all, right?

 

Then again, there were other things, like Derek’s bedroom. Stiles lurked at the bottom of the spiral staircase until his curiosity got the better of him. He ascended and looked around. He could hear the shower running through the door to the bathroom, but it didn’t worry him.

 

With his hands in his pockets he came over to the large bed. So Derek was the type to make his bed, huh? What a snob. Bed-making, work ethic, it made Stiles smirk. He adored the guy.

 

Stiles turned around and let himself fall back onto the bed, and wow was it comfy. He kicked off his shoes and wriggled back, the comforter becoming completely un-made. Too bad. If it wasn’t made, he might as well go for maximum comfort. He pulled the comforter over him and then over his head, sighing in the growing warmth. It smelled like Derek inside and he smiled.

 

Derek peeled his clothes off once he was in the bathroom and left them in a pile on the floor. The shower was already turned to the best setting so he stepped inside and switched it on. He didn’t hear Stiles coming up the stairs over the sound of the water running so he carried on washing himself, making sure to scrub his hair just in case. Once he was clean he turned off the water and stepped out, drying himself and his hair with a towel and leaving it on the floor with his clothes.

 

He walked back through to the bedroom naked, realizing there was something off the second he stepped into the room. He could smell Stiles’ scent in the room but the most obvious give away was the large lump under the sheets in the center of his bed.

 

Stiles heard him coming into the room and his grin widened. He shifted under the covers. “Sorry… couldn’t help it. Actually, not sorry. Your bed is amaaaazing.”

 

Derek just rolled his eyes and walked over to his chest of drawers to pick out some underwear. He pulled on some boxers and walked over to the bed. “You’d better make that again when you get out…”

 

 

Stiles listened to the rustling of fabric and heard Derek’s footsteps as he came closer. “Or what? Are you gonna…” He pulled the blanket down, saw Derek looking like Adonis in his boxers and pulled the blanket over his face again. He could feel himself flushing, first from what he’d seen and then because he was hiding from it.

 

“Jesus, I thought you were finished getting dressed! Put a shirt on before you give me a heart attack.”

 

Derek huffed and stood back up. “Why would I be dressed, I’ve just finished having a shower.” He rolled his eyes and pulled the covers off Stiles in one swift motion. “Get up and I’ll get dressed. Then we can go out.” He bargained, looking at the untidy pile his sheets were now in. He folded his arms across his chest and waited for Stiles to move.

 

Glaring, Stiles slowly sat up. But instead of getting out of the bed he snatched back the thick blanket and pulled it on top of him again. “Maybe instead, you should-” He stopped, remembering that Derek said he was hungry. Damn, he didn’t want Derek feeling hungry. He threw off the blanket and sat up. “Never mind. I can get up.”

 

Derek gave a nod and turned away to get some clothes out of his chest of drawers. He pulled out a plain tshirt and a pair of jeans which he pulled on quickly. He returned to the bed so that he could pull his socks on, turning to look at Stiles while he did. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?” He grinned and stood back up once his socks were on. “Do you know any good food places?” He asked, checking he had his wallet before heading to the stairs.

 

As Derek went downstairs, Stiles lingered at the top. He glanced back at the bed longingly, and not because it was comfortable.

 

Huffing, he followed him down. “Yeah, you like BBQ?”

 

Not long after, they drove to a small strip mall on the edge of town, where sat Brian’s BBQ. The place was mildly busy for a Wednesday, but doing better than Mama’s usually did during the week. They were seated and given menus.

 

“This place is insane,” Stiles said, browsing the menu, though he already knew what he wanted. “They have like thirty wing sauces.”

 

Derek smiled warmly and glanced over the menu in his hands, unsure what to order since he’d never been before. After scanning the menu three times and still being unsure he closed it over and lay it back down on the table. When the waitress came over to take their order he let Stiles order first and told her he’d have what Stiles had ordered too. He ordered their drinks next and also asked for a bowl of curly fries between them, although they were mostly for Stiles.

 

When the waitress left with their menus he turned back to Stiles. “So, do you come here often then?”

 

 

“Dad and I go on Sundays,” Stiles said. “And smart move on the order. I promise, pulled pork with their spicy maple bourbon sauce is godly.”

 

Stiles’ phone beeped with his father’s text tone, and sure enough he was asking where Stiles was. Stiles pressed a few buttons and pocketed the phone. “That was Dad. I sent him a selfie I took in Scott’s bedroom so it looks like I’m there. I took a bunch of them one day with different shirts and lamps on, so I can use them whenever he asks where I am. Genius, right?”

 

“Why can’t you just tell him we’re getting dinner?” He wondered. When he took a moment to think about it he could see why Stiles wouldn’t want to tell his dad. The sheriff probably wouldn’t be too happy about Stiles spending time with him, let alone doing anything else. He frowned when another thought popped into his head. “Wait, does your dad even know we work together?”

 

“Uh, I don’t think so. I mean, I haven’t exactly talked to him much in general since we started. He wouldn’t mind, though. He likes you.”

 

“If he likes me why can’t you tell him we’re getting dinner?” He asked, raising his eyebrows. He knew Stiles was probably just lying to spare his feelings but he only usually lied to his dad about being with Scott when it involved the supernatural.

 

Stiles sat back in the booth seat, rubbing his hands against his jeans. “My dad… I don’t know…” He scratched the back of his neck. “Okay, I haven’t exactly told my dad that I’m bi. The thing is, he might know. Once or twice he’s caught me looking at something moderately questionable on the internet, but he’s never said anything and I haven’t either. It’s just this awkward non-subject. He’s an open-minded guy but I just… just haven’t.” He sighed. “I’m chickenshit, I know.”

 

Derek smiled and shook his head slightly. “You don’t have to tell him it’s a date. It’s actually probably best that you don’t tell him that until he warms to me. I mean… He has a lot of guns and he knows about werewolves. I’m sure it won’t take him long to get his hands on wolfsbane.” He said, looking down at the table. “On second thoughts, stick to the selfies at Scott’s house.”

 

Laughing, Stiles relaxed. “Alright, I’ll stick with the selfie tonight because I already told him that. But I won’t lie next time we go out.” Stiles thought about it all, and wondered if it would really be so bad if his dad knew. He might already know, and it’d be interesting to find that out if it were true.

 

Their dinner came and Stiles grinned. “Oh yeah. Eat up, Derek.”

 

Derek started eating straight away, not realizing how hungry he was until the food was placed in front of him. He didn’t speak while he ate but the silence that fell between them seemed comfortable and not awkward. He took a few of the curly fries from the bowl between them but he didn’t have many. Once he was finished he leaned back in his seat and pushed the bowl of curly fries over to Stiles’ side of the table. “I’m done, you can have those.”

 

Stiles had definitely not been eyeing up the curly fries. He put one to his mouth and bit it in half. “Mmh, you are the best, Derek.” He looked up at him with a gleam in his eye. “Truth or Dare?”

 

Derek laughed. “What _now_?” He asked. “Maybe we should play it when we get back to my apartment?” He suggested with a shrug. “If you want to come back…”

 

It was difficult, but Stiles managed not to grin too much at that. “Yeah, that’d be cool. But I’m definitely not waiting to play. Truth or Dare?”

 

Derek groaned and slumped down in his seat. “Fine, if we have to. I choose truth.” He huffed and took a long drink of his milkshake.

 

“Oh lucky you, I was going to dare you to buy me more curly fries, because I could easily eat three baskets of these without puking. Alright Truth… hmmm…” He ate another fry as he thought. “What was your first reaction when you heard about my little drunken fancies from Scott?

 

“Well, I sliced my finger open with a knife for a start.” He shrugged and leaned forward on the table. “Shock and confusion mostly, I figured it was only because you were drunk though.” He nodded, happy with his answer. “Does that mean it’s my go now?”

 

“See I always thought that alcohol brought things out of people rather than changed them,” Stiles commented. “At least, it makes an honest guy out of me. And yeah, it’s your go. Truth.”

 

Derek nodded in agreement and thought about his question for a moment. “How long have you liked me?” He asked with a smirk.

 

Stiles’ smile twitched downward. “Harsh Derek.” He stuffed his mouth full of curly fries to give him time to think. Or pretend like he had to think. He knew. He took a sip of his soda. “When you saved me from wolfed-out Isaac. That was the moment.”

 

Derek’s eyes widened a little and he gaped at him. “That was _months_ ago! Why didn’t you say anything, or do anything?” He asked. He doubted there had ever been a time he would have turned Stiles down after he started warming up to him.

 

“I don’t know,” Stiles said, feeling a little embarrassed. “Okay, maybe I do know. Before Scott got the bite, we were just a pair of High School kids, and you were… well like I’ve said before, you can be way scary when you want to be. And you were always busy too! It’s not like I could ask you to take a break from saving Beacon Hills to go out with me. Honestly, I saw it as a permanent, one-sided thing. I didn’t even consider another option.”

 

Derek nodded a little to show his understanding. "Well, I suppose it's a good thing this worked out the way it did." He said, finishing off his milkshake and checking the time. "Alright, one more round and then I'm driving us back... I'll choose dare."

 

Stiles thought. He hadn’t had anything planned, but it wouldn’t be hard to come up with something. “Oh I know, I dare you to give me the keys to the Camaro. I want to drive to your place.”

 

Derek narrowed his eyes at Stiles and hesitantly slid the keys across the table to him. This was his own fault after all, he had chosen dare. "You stick to the speed limit and if you damage her, I'll damage your face." He said, trying to look serious. He doubted if he could actually intimidate Stiles anymore, since they had cuddled his techniques no longer worked.

 

“Wow,” Stiles said, keeping his expression even. “You must really like me.”

 

He took the keys. They paid at the front, and headed outside. Stiles sat in the driver’s seat and looked at Derek beside him. “Jesus, you’re practically sweating,” he laughed. He turned on the engine, crooning at the sound it made. Driving was definitely better than shotgun. “Trust me. You may have a Camaro, but I treat my Jeep like one. I know how to drive.”

 

Stiles put it in reverse and the car shot backward. He stomped on the brake and gasped. “Holy shit, that is powerful! I was not expecting that!”

 

Derek launched his arms out in front of himself as the movement threw him forward. They came to a quick stop when Stiles shoved his foot on the break. "Be careful!" He snapped. "Your dad will literally kill me if you crash." He huffed and settled back in his seat. "Try again, slowly."

 

“O-Okay,” Stiles said, putting the car in Drive. He let go of the brake slowly and it started forward, and let off a little more until they turned toward the road. He put on the blinker and looked at Derek. “Okay, here goes.” The coast was clear and Stiles pulled out, slightly faster than he wanted but not horribly. “Okay, this is totally fun. I wanted to drive just to see you sweat, but this is pretty wicked.”

 

Derek started to relax into his seat the longer Stiles was driving. By the time Derek was fully comfortable sitting in the camaro with Stiles driving they were already coming up to the loft. "Think you can park it?" He asked as they slowed outside Derek's building.

 

“Yes I think I can park it,” Stiles said, sniffing. And he did so without incident, though his stop was a little harsh on the brakes. “Well. You have got to let me do that again.” He climbed out and tossed Derek the keys.

 

Derek locked the car up and headed towards the building. "You're never doing that again." He shook his head and walked inside, letting Stiles follow behind him. He unlocked the door to the loft and let Stiles it first before shutting it behind them.

 

“So,” Stiles started, looking around. “Got any board games? Or do you want to attempt an episode of Sherlock again?”

 

Derek looked at the clock and sighed, it was still quite early but he was already exhausted. He was kind of glad for it, part of the reason he wanted a job was to get rid of his spare time. Between working and sleeping he didn't have much time to think, which wasn't entirely bad. But now he had Stiles, who despite being human managed to have more energy than him. "I don't own any bored games, I'm a grown up." He said, shrugging off his jacket and hanging it up.

 

“Under all that sarcasm you actually sound exasperated,” Stiles said, slightly worried. “Are you tired? I don’t have to stay.”

 

Derek shook his head quickly. "No, I want you to stay. Sherlock sounds good." He smiled. "I'm going to get changed first, do you want something if you're spending the night?"

 

Stiles did a doubletake at Derek’s last comment. He had not at all thought he was sleeping over, but it was an absolutely fantastic surprise. “U-uh, yeah, that’d be great.”

 

He followed Derek up the stairs, mind already on the comfy bed up there and the cuddling and the kissing and his stomach was filled with butterflies by the time they reached the top. He put his hands on his hips, trying to keep cool as Derek sifted through a drawer.

 

That’s when he noticed the laptop on Derek’s bedside table. “Hey, you want to watch Sherlock up here? I’m a little addicted to this awesome bed.”

 

Derek chuckled quietly as he pulled out a shirt and pair of pajama bottoms for Stiles, throwing them onto the bed. "Yeah sure, you sort it out." He said, disappearing into the bathroom. He bundled up the pile of clothes that were still there from his shower and he threw them in his laundry basket. Once that was done he pulled his shirt over his head and pushed his jeans down.

 

Stiles put on Derek’s sleep clothes and pulled the shirt up to his nose. Man, he didn’t have to be a werewolf to enjoy everything smelling like the guy, even the clean stuff. The clothes were a little loose which made them even more comfortable, and in no time flat he was in bed and under the blankets. He grabbed the laptop and turned it on, rolling his eyes when it requested a password. After ‘I am the Alpha’ didn’t work, he decided to wait.

 

Derek pulled on a pair of pajama bottoms and nothing else before climbing onto the bed besides Stiles. He took the laptop off him when he noticed the password request and he typed it in for him before handing it back.

 

Stiles had trouble pulling his gaze off Derek’s perfectly sculpted everything. But he finally did, and brought up Netflix Instant Play. A few clicks later Sherlock was up, and he jumped forward to where they’d left off.

 

As they moved together and got situated with the laptop, Stiles started to regret the whole bed thing. Derek was right there, _right_ there, and Stiles had to watch a murder mystery? He kept it to himself though and tried paying attention.

 

Derek was losing concentration for entirely different reasons. He managed to watch the screen for a few minutes before his eyes started closing. At one point he had almost fallen asleep, his head rolled forward and the sudden movement woke him back up again. He blinked a few times and looked at Stiles to make sure he hadn't seen.

 

But Stiles didn’t miss a beat, not when he was currently hyper-aware of Derek. He sighed and closed the laptop, putting it back on the bedside table. “C’mon Sleepywolf.” He shifted further down into the blankets.

 

"Hm, what? The episode wasn't over... Was it?" He asked, unsure. They may not have even been watching Sherlock for all he knew. He looked at Stiles for a moment and then sunk down further on the bed until he was lying down.

 

“It’s over for you, buddy,” Stiles said. “We’re going to sleep.” He cuddled up against Derek, making himself comfortable.

 

Derek quickly wrapped his arms around Stiles, pressing up close to him and shutting his eyes. He was already dozing off the moment his eyes closed. "Night." He murmured.

 

To Be Continued.


End file.
